


Made Out of Lightning

by harleyyquinn



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: M/M, Making Out, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-14
Updated: 2016-03-14
Packaged: 2018-05-26 14:01:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6242233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harleyyquinn/pseuds/harleyyquinn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adam’s breath came in shallow pants as he tried to orient himself; he could feel a layer of sweat sticking to his skin and his clothes. The room reeked of damp forest, a scent as familiar as any. It seemed to be the dead of night and he was reassuringly safe in his own bed, but he was no longer alone in it. He could feel the pressure of another body at his back as he rolled over in his too small bed. Waiting for him wide awake and lying on his side was Ronan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Made Out of Lightning

It was just after 11pm when Adam slid the key into his lock, drowsily pushing the door open to his small apartment. He wasn’t surprised to find the assortment of things that hadn’t been there when he left: the bathroom light was left on, a large Nino’s pizza box was taking up space on his desk, a pair of scuffed converse sneakers lay kicked off by the door, and a familiar black raven perched in his window sill that was watching him intently. He closed the door behind him, leaning against it as a wave of exhaustion hit his legs, begging him to call it a night. But despite the sounds of soft snoring coming from the floor on the other side of his bed, he knew he didn’t have the same luxury to be done just yet.  
  
Instead he locked the door, toed off his shoes, and brought his heavy backpack full of school books over to the desk. He had managed to finish his Chemistry homework on his breaks at the body shop, in between trying not to fall asleep and devouring his PB&J sandwich he had brought for what constituted as dinner. But his arduous amount of Latin homework still loomed and he was already trying not to count down the available hours of sleep he had left to spend on it.  
  
Adam sat down heavily in his uncomfortable second-hand wooden chair, and tried to be as quiet as possible while ruffling through his stack of notes he’d abandoned on his desk that afternoon. He didn’t even look up when Chainsaw came down from her perch, hopping around his desk, more than likely looking for something she could destroy and delight in doing so. She often resembled Ronan in those moments, and he wondered if it was possible to teach your own bad habits to a bird. She nipped at his perusing fingers, and he thought that yes, it was clearly possible. The bite smarted, but no more than he was used to from anything Lynch-related. He tried not to glare at her for her obvious grab for attention, instead he multi-tasked as he lightly stroked the soft feathers atop her head while flipping through the lined pages.  
  
He finally found what he was looking for and suddenly felt the first genuine surge of surprise since coming home. There were his Latin notes, there was the assignment in his own diligent handwriting, but then there too were all of the answers written in a slightly more stilted handwriting than his own. The kind of handwriting that often left offensive remarks and embarrassing doodles in the margins of Adam’s otherwise perfect notes. The kind that belonged to the soundly sleeping boy on the hardwood floor next to his bed. Adam felt the usual fight tugging at his gut. He resolutely did not accept pity, but god he was just so _tired_. He tamped down his urge to kick Ronan out as he scanned through the answers, each proving to be correct as far as Adam could tell.  
  
Adam could already hear Gansey rationalizing it in his head for him, trying to explain the difference between accepting handouts and accepting help. He could hear Blue telling him to just take it for what it was, and to go to bed because he looked awful, and had he been drinking some of Maura’s tea she sent over last week because she swears it’s supposed to help. He could hear Noah shushing him, telling him not to worry about it anymore, this one was on them. But loudest of all he could hear Cabeswater, and it was begging him to sleep, begging him to rest and recharge so it could rely on more of his energy tomorrow. He was no good to anybody burnt out and asleep at the wheel. No good at all.  
  
Chainsaw nipped at his idle fingers again as he’d stopped stroking her with the realization his homework was already finished, equalling at least three extra hours of sleep he hadn’t been counting on. He mumbled a soft apology to her retreating wings as she fluttered back to her perch, before reaching to turn off the desk light. He stood up while stretching, hearing his back crack with the movement, and tried to swallow down his familiar reflex to resent the other boy in the room. He wanted to be angry with him for being so presumptuous, angry with him for thinking Adam needed the help. But he couldn’t really summon the appropriate amount of fire to get worked up about it. They both knew that Adam could use the break. And worst of all that the work would never have turned out as good if left up to Adam, there was just no equal to Ronan’s infuriating mastery of the dead language.  
  
He tiredly washed up in the bathroom, pointedly turning the light off after him, and easily navigated the handful of steps in the dark that it took him to get to the bed. He stripped out of his oil stained jeans and dirty t-shirt, not caring that he had company, and fell onto the waiting mattress. Ronan stirred at the sound, rolling over onto his other side in his nest of blankets and pillows he kept stored there to use whenever necessary. Adam had stopped asking Ronan why he ended up in the small room above the church. Sometimes it was more obvious than others. Sometimes he’d be drunk and just followed his instincts that kept leading him to Adam’s door. Sometimes he’d have too many dreams, too many nightmares, and couldn’t sleep in his own tainted room. Sometimes he’d fight with Gansey, or more like felt Gansey was smothering him and needed some space. The most rare of times he’d show up at Adam’s door without any pretence whatsoever. He’d show up just because that’s exactly where he wanted to be. And Adam let him in every time.  
  
-  
  
Sleep came easy to him that night, but it didn’t stay easy, it almost never did. He was used to finding all sorts of things in his sleep, although he doubted they were ever as grand as Gansey’s dreams, or ever as magical as Ronan’s. The only thing he’d ever been able to bring back from his dreams was palpable fear. Never anything as beautiful as Chainsaw or as loving as Matthew. But he knew how to bring fear back that felt as solid as the creatures of Ronan’s nightmares that followed him like Alice through the looking glass. It wasn’t every night. Some nights he was so tired he never remembered dreaming at all. Other nights they were a normal jumble of leftover feelings and old memories. But there were a lot of nights he’d find his father in his dreams, and those were always the worst.  
  
Tonight he was in Cabeswater, and everybody was there with him. They were exploring, always looking for anything Glendower related. Until he started to see the ghosts, the remnants of spirits that would play at the corner of his eyes or in the reflections of water. They’d be there wordlessly screaming, or reaching for him, never intending to be menacing, only trying to act as Cabeswater’s rusty mouthpiece. But one of the ghosts seemed so familiar he felt compelled to follow it deeper into the woods. He left everyone behind, chasing peripheral images in the dark. Until he slammed into the very solid wall of his father, falling hard on his back. His father stood over him, his fists balled, and his face twisting into the familiar ugly mask of barely controlled rage.  
  
Adam could feel the forest floor scratching his hands as he tried to scuttle backwards beyond his father’s reach. He knew better than most what those fists were capable of, he didn’t need a fresh reminder. Gnarled tree roots and vegetation started to snake towards his father’s feet, twisting up his ankles to slow him down. But his father continued to push through, yanking one foot free after the other, a string of familiar curses directed at his son. Adam pushed himself to his feet, his ear ringing and his head going fuzzy like it had the last time his father ever laid his hands on him. He tried to steady himself as he turned to run, until he felt his father grab a hold of his shirt, spinning him around. He had time to raise his arms in front of his face, time to see his father cock back his arm like he had so many times before, and then- _Kerah_! He heard the screech of Chainsaw as he got roughly dragged back into consciousness, sure there would be Cabeswater dirt under his nails.  
  
Adam’s breath came in shallow pants as he tried to orient himself; he could feel a layer of sweat sticking to his skin and his clothes. The room reeked of damp forest, a scent as familiar as any. It seemed to be the dead of night and he was reassuringly safe in his own bed, but he was no longer alone in it. He could feel the pressure of another body at his back as he rolled over in his too small bed. Waiting for him wide awake and lying on his side was Ronan. His brow was creased, but otherwise his expression as open as Ronan ever allowed his face to be. Adam was quickly learning that Ronan was never more voluntarily vulnerable than he was in the middle of the night, the only exception occasionally being while they were at the Barns. But Adam couldn’t always tell whether it was always voluntary while they were at the old home. But here, in Adam’s bed, he knew Ronan’s actions were nothing but deliberate.  
  
“Did I wake you up?” Adam asked, his throat feeling a little raw.  
  
Ronan gave a half-shrug in response despite the answer being obvious. “I’m used to nightmares hiding under pillows.”  
  
Adam nodded. His nerves felt shot, like he’d been running on adrenaline for too long and now he was crashing. “Sorry,” he said, the word coming out softer than he had intended.  
  
Ronan very slowly reached between them to wipe his thumb under Adam’s eye. Tears he didn’t remember crying came away on Ronan’s fingertips, and for the first time Adam wondered if he should be feeling embarrassed. But he couldn’t recall the familiar sensation of shame to hide behind. Instead he felt the very real, and very foreign concept, of _comfort_. Ronan’s unrequested presence in his apartment, scrawled across his homework, lying in his bed, weren’t actually the biggest surprises of the night. It was that Ronan’s unasked for presence was a source of steadfast comfort. Ronan proved to be capable of anchoring him to the real world; to their world of ancient kings, fragile magicians, and fierce gods.  
  
Adam briefly remembered the familiar scene in his dream, just like the night his father had deafened him in one ear. It was Ronan that had put a stop to his father that night, it was Ronan who had been there for him. And it made all the sense in their world that it would be Ronan who would pull him out of his nightmares and be waiting for him now.  
  
“Don’t apologize,” said Ronan. “Apologies for things beyond our control aren’t worth shit.”  
  
They both knew Adam had to bite back another reflexive apology. “It was just a stupid dream,” he offered instead.  
  
“Dreams can be a lot of things, but they're usually as smart as the one who has them.”  
  
“You would know better than most.”  
  
“I do,” Ronan agreed. “Which is why I’m sure it couldn’t have possibly been stupid.”  
  
Adam always felt off-kilter when Ronan said things like that. He'd known Ronan to poetically curse, to caustically remark, to angrily yell with the use of more basic expletives. But a quiet and complimentary Ronan was a thing of wonders.  
  
“What happened tonight?” Adam asked, hoping to steer the conversation back to more solid ground without having to explain himself.  
  
“Monmouth was empty.” Meaning Ronan had been _lonely_.  
  
“So was my apartment,” Adam pointed out.  
  
Ronan just watched him, his silence enough of an answer. The only sounds in the tiny apartment were the occasional ruffle of Chainsaw’s feathers, and the even pace of their breathing. The night was comforting in the room, like Adam didn’t have to be so self-conscious about what Ronan could see. But their staring went on longer than Adam knew was appropriate for two half-naked friends sharing a small bed.  
  
Adam sighed and closed his eyes. With a sudden lurch he felt the bed shift as Ronan rolled onto his other side, his pale back to Adam. Adam couldn’t help but stare at the full view of Ronan’s tattoo that sprawled across his skin like an array of veins, climbing over his shoulders, reaching its inky fingers for his neck. Adam wished he could turn a light on as he hesitantly reached out his own fingers to trace the markings. He didn’t stop to ask if he could, or maybe more importantly to wonder if he should, he just did. Ronan was always just _doing_. Now it was Adam’s turn.  
  
Adam started at the base of Ronan’s neck, following the twisted lines down, trying to make sense of the whole picture. There were sharp angles, Celtic symbols if you squinted, but mostly there was just Ronan. Adam wished the tattoo was raised like Braille. As if he could just try hard enough and the tattoo would spill all of its secrets and act as a direct line into Ronan’s soul. Adam thought that if the tattoo really was made of Braille, it would more than likely just be telling him to fuck off. But Ronan the boy, not the tattoo, wasn’t telling him any such thing. He lay quiet and still on his side, the flannel sheets covering his pale legs, as he just let it happen.  
  
Adam’s fingers slowly and methodically worked their way over his sharp shoulder blades, and down Ronan’s spine, until stopping at the waistline of his blue boxer-brief’s. Adam remembered his sacrifice from months ago, his promise that his hands were now Cabeswater’s hands. But not tonight. Tonight his hands were his own, and not even doubt could rein them in. He let his hand follow the skin above the waistband along to Ronan’s protruding hip, and further to the hard plane of his lower abdomen. There, Adam paused his hand and spread his fingers out wide as if he could soak all of Ronan’s comfort up through his palm. He breathed in and out, feeling his hand move up and down as Ronan did the same. Gathering his bearings he let his palm gently slide up over Ronan’s ribs and under his arm, to rest carefully over his chest. He could feel Ronan’s heart pounding against its cage, betraying his calm exterior.  
  
Ronan’s heartbeat was fast and strong, just like Ronan was in a fight. The way his pulse fluttered against Adam’s skin reminded him of the same sensation he felt whenever he held Chainsaw between his hands. He was always aware of how breakable she was, and consequently how trusting she must have been to allow his handling of her. Adam had never thought the same could apply to Ronan. Ronan was made of sharp words that cut and hard knuckles that bruised. But Adam was learning there was so much more to Ronan than he could see. Beneath Ronan’s clothes lay a tattoo like an encrypted map to his inner workings that begged to be deciphered. And most importantly, beneath Ronan’s chest lay a heart as fragile as a raven’s.  
  
Emboldened by the lack of Ronan’s protest, Adam slid his hand back down Ronan’s torso. He took the time to count Ronan’s ribs, wanting to thank each one individually for holding Ronan together. Until his hand again found Ronan’s waistband, only this time he didn’t hesitate. His hand moving slowly so as to leave any room for Ronan to stop him, crept along Ronan’s thigh. He paused to listen to their breathing, both of them seemed to be struggling to maintain their composure. Half aware of what was occurring in his own boxers, Adam trailed his fingers back up Ronan’s thigh until he finally found his apparent hard on. His touch was feather light as he trailed from base to head, wondering in the back of his mind where his courage had come from. Just as Adam finally dragged his palm up the hard length, Ronan grabbed his wrist.  
  
“ _Parrish_ ,” said Ronan, his voice sounding strained.  
  
“ _Lynch_ ,” Adam replied in kind.  
  
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” To Adam’s relief Ronan didn’t sound angry so much as genuinely curious as to what was happening.  
  
“Touching you,” Adam stated matter-of-factly.  
   
“And would you care to elaborate as to why you are doing that?”  
  
Adam hesitated, before sinking his faith into that moment of courage he’d felt just before. “Because I want you to feel safe. And I want you to feel wanted.” _Like you always make me feel._  
  
Ronan didn’t respond right away, keeping his hand on Adam’s wrist as he seemed to mull over the explanation. Adam worried his answer had been insufficient to express whatever was happening in the pit of his stomach. Or worse, that his answer had been too honest. But in typical Ronan fashion, he skipped over unnecessary words and went straight to action.  
  
Ronan let go of his wrist and entwined their fingers, guiding Adam’s hand back to the path he had been following. He pushed harder than Adam had dared, cupping their hands around him as he slowly started to roll his hips into it. Ronan made a sound at the back of his throat, the kind of small moan that was never supposed to make it out of his mouth. But he couldn’t contain it, and Adam enjoyed it more than he ever thought he would. Suddenly, Ronan pulled their hands away and pushed at Adam to give him the room to turn back over, facing him again. Adam felt somewhat robbed of the foregone conclusion they had been working to, until Ronan cupped the side of Adam’s face and closed the small distance to finally kiss him.  
  
They weren’t experts, but what they lacked in experience they made up for in enthusiasm. Adam discovered that Ronan was so much more than cuts and bruises. Ronan was also made of gentle hands that comforted and a wet mouth that kept promises. Adam might have been the magician, but Ronan was the god, and Adam felt like he could taste the power on his tongue. Kissing Ronan felt like when they would turn a corner in Cabeswater only to find the spring weather had turned into autumn, a sudden thunderstorm crashing overhead without warning; nothing made Adam feel more awake. Nothing until Ronan’s mouth, as if their pounding hearts were the sudden thunderstorm, like they were made out of lightning.  
  
Ronan nipped at Adam's bottom lip before finally pulling away to give them both enough room to breathe comfortably. Adam kept his eyes closed, but he could feel Ronan staring at him.  
  
“Are you going to freak out?” asked Ronan.  
  
Adam tried to take stock of his feelings, but he was having a hard time nailing anything down before it escaped him. Ronan had effectively ruined him. “I don't think so,” he replied. “Are _you_ going to freak out?”  
  
“Not tonight,” Ronan said honestly, and fairly.  
  
Adam nodded, reality seeping back into the room one sense at a time. He could hear the wind that had picked up outside, rattling his window. He could smell the leftover Nino's Ronan had purposefully left for him on his desk. But Nino's quickly reminded Adam that despite their isolation in his room, they were never alone for long.  
  
“Do you think Gansey is going to lecture us?”  
  
Ronan smiled crookedly at the very idea. “He already gave me the safe sex lecture.”  
  
“Jesus, Ronan,” said Adam, feeling his cheeks grow red and hoping it was much too dark to be noticed.  
  
“It's not like he offered to demonstrate. But I'm sure if I had asked-”  
  
Adam covered his mouth, not needing the overly descriptive visual he knew Ronan was building up to. “I get it.”  
  
“Not yet, but maybe some day,” said Ronan. He leaned over to quickly kiss Adam again before untangling himself from the sheets. “Your bed is way too fucking small, Parrish.”  
  
“I know,” Adam acquiesced as he watched Ronan get back into his nest of blankets on the floor. Once Ronan seemed settled and quiet, Adam finally closed his eyes again. He wondered how much of that extra sleep Ronan had bought him earlier was just used up. Although he was certain that he’d rather be kept awake by Ronan than his homework.  
  
Adam could feel sleep tugging at the corners of his consciousness, and knew that when he succumbed, he would find nothing but peaceful quiet in his dreams now.  
  
\--  
  
The noises of Adam's shower and creaky water pipes woke him up before his alarm. He refused to open his eyes for a moment longer, before grumpily rolling out of bed. He had another shift at the body shop to take up most of his Saturday, then tending to Cabeswater’s needs, then likely Monmouth before finally getting to come back to his now already cold bed. He sighed as he bent over to pick up the same dirty jeans he'd been wearing the day before, and then almost face planted as he heard someone purposefully clearing their throat.  
  
Adam turned with jeans in hand to find Noah sitting on his desk, his legs swinging back and forth childishly. The light coming through the window behind him did funny things with Noah, some rays making it through him, the rest skirting around him like it would for any other, allowing him a patchwork shadow across the floor. Noah never really seemed as solid as he did when around Blue, but he was there enough for Adam to instantly interpret the knowing smile he was wearing.  
  
“Y’know, just because you're dead doesn't mean you don't have to knock,” said Adam.  
  
“I did knock. Last night. But for some reason you didn't hear me,” Noah replied pointedly.  
  
“Maybe people should stop coming by unannounced so I can get some peace.”  
  
“Are you sure that's what you want to be getting?”  
  
“It _is_ what I want.” Adam remembered to tug his jeans on instead of standing there half-naked. “What is it that you want?”  
  
“A lot of things I guess.” Noah's smile dimmed a bit at that, unwilling to share any of them. “But last night I was just seeing where Ronan had gone. And this morning I'm looking for you.”  
  
“For me? What's up?” Adam had to shoo Chainsaw off one of his boxes that acted as a closet for him, pulling out a clean pair of socks and a ratty black t-shirt.  
  
“Well I guess now I should say congratulations first.”  
  
Adam blanched. “For?”  
  
Noah nodded towards the bathroom door where the shower turned off. “We were all waiting for it. And I was getting tired of Gansey scolding Blue and me for trying to take bets on how long it would take.”  
  
Adam wondered how offended he should feel. “I can only imagine his lectures on both the devious nature of gambling _and_ discussing the details of our personal lives.”  
  
“Something along those lines. Although Blue said she thinks he was placing bets in his head anyways.”  
  
“Uh huh. Well there’s nothing to congratulate yet, so if you could keep that to yourself for now I’d appreciate it.”  
  
“Well that mostly brings me to why I stopped by in the first place.”  
  
“Other than to annoy me?” Adam asked lightly.  
  
“Other than that. I just wanted to give you a heads up that Gansey and Blue are on their way over to congratulate you themselves.”  
  
Adam barely had time to think of an appropriate reaction to that before Ronan came out of the bathroom still damp but dressed in his jeans and a very familiar red faded Coca Cola shirt.  
  
“What are you losers staring at?” Ronan asked casually as Noah started ginning like an idiot.  
  
Ronan seemed as comfortable in Adam's sub-par home as always, completely ignoring any potential for awkwardness after everything that happened just hours before.  
  
Adam tried to mimic his nonchalance as he replied, “Noah says Gansey and Blue are on their way over.”  
  
“Fuckin' fantastic,” Ronan deadpanned. “Gansey owes me breakfast.”  
  
“Yeah,” said Adam, feigning casualness. “Noah, could you-”  
  
“I guess I could,” said Noah, still smiling. Noah hopped down from the desk and with a wave over his shoulder headed out the door.  
  
Adam and Ronan stared at each other as they listened to Noah’s footsteps going down the stairs, barely solid enough to resonate.  
  
“You know Noah won’t be able to hold them off for long,” said Ronan.  
  
“I know,” agreed Adam, still holding their gaze.  
  
Ronan shifted his weight to lean against the bathroom door jamb, resting his head against the wood. He seemed relaxed, which was almost more unsettling for Adam. There were just too many things to consider for him to pick one to start with. _What did this mean? Where did this leave them? What was Ronan expecting from him? What if they messed everything up and couldn’t all hang out together anymore? Would Ronan care that he still liked girls too? What if he hurt Ronan?_  
  
But the only thing that found its way out of his mouth was: “Are you wearing my shirt?”  
  
“Not technically.”  
  
“How is there room for a technicality in that question?”  
  
“It came out of my dream,” said Ronan, plucking at the hem of the shirt.  
  
“Oh,” said Adam, taking the answer in stride. “Does it have any added dream bonuses?”  
  
“It’s the third time I’ve brought this shirt back with me,” said Ronan, shrugging, “and no matter how many times I wear them they are still the softest things I own.”  
  
Adam wanted to make fun of him for that, but he couldn’t quite manage to. “And what are you doing holding onto one of my shirts to bring it back all of those times?”  
  
Ronan smirked in response. “Come on Parrish, don’t make me do all of the heavy-lifting here.”  
  
Adam felt his cheeks burn. “Uh huh. What’s the plan here?”  
  
“Plan?” asked Ronan, nonplussed.  
  
“The plan,” Adam gestured between them.  
  
“Like if I’m going to ask Gansey for your hand in marriage now?”  
  
“Don’t be an asshole.”  
  
“It’s the only way I know how to be.”  
  
“ _Ronan_.”  
  
“ _Fine_. You want a plan? Life carries on like normal. You keep working yourself to death and apply to your fancy schools. Gansey keeps chasing dead kings. Maggot keeps doing whatever maggots do. Noah keeps barely existing. I keep doing whatever the fuck I want to. And we’ll makeout in my car in between all of that. And sometimes here. And sometimes at Monmouth. And in Cabeswater-”  
  
“I get it,” Adam cut him off, a hint of a smile barely visible.  
  
“We can do other things too,” Ronan offered.  
  
“Other than making out?”  
  
“We can do anything you want. The dream’s the limit.”  
  
Adam contemplated the offer. “Okay,” he finally said before slipping past Ronan into the bathroom so he could brush his teeth.  
  
“Okay?” Ronan asked, turning to face him in the small room, as if he couldn’t believe he’d gotten out of that so easily.  
  
Adam spit into the sink, allowing him enough time to repeat, “I said okay.”  
  
“It’s not that I can’t grasp the meaning of the word.”  
  
Adam rinsed his mouth out and brushed by Ronan again on his way to get his backpack. “So what is it that you’re struggling to grasp?”  
  
Ronan didn’t answer as he watched Adam pack his bag, his stare boring into Adam’s back like the explanation he was waiting for was written across his shirt. When Adam turned to face him, slinging his bag over one shoulder, Ronan’s eyes were narrowed.  
  
They waited each other out, daring the other to take the first step.  
  
“Fuck it.” Ronan caved first. “Okay then,” he said, finally pushing off the door jamb like a snake unfurling, and closed the distance between them.  
  
Adam was ready for it this time. When they kissed this morning it was in the face of the sunlight coming through Adam’s window, not hidden in the darkness of the night. Adam dug his fingers into Ronan’s soft shirt as Ronan held the back of Adam’s neck in a tight grip, their mouths beginning to take each other apart. Ronan’s hips pushed Adam back until he was pressed against his desk, their mouths never losing track.  
  
Adam could feel himself getting lost in Ronan’s heartbeat, it pulsated like his own personal ley line - until there was knocking on his door. There was also the sound of poor attempts at hushed whispers as Blue and Gansey obviously disagreed on how to handle the situation. Ronan pulled back first, but not in a shameful retreat, so much as to let Adam handle this how ever he wanted to.  
  
Adam nodded at Ronan once, his lips tingling, and he knew they’d figure this out like every other mystery they’d been chasing lately. “Okay then,” he echoed, and went to open the door before Gansey said something stupid because Adam was taking too long. If Gansey ruined the mood for breakfast, both Blue and Ronan would never let him forget it, and in that moment Adam couldn’t think of a single thing that could matter more.

**Author's Note:**

> Let's be real, Noah got the gang into Parks and Rec and ever since Ronan and Blue have taken eating waffles for breakfast more seriously than finding Glendower.


End file.
